


Realm of the Last Five

by barotai



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Anachronistic, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, High Fantasy, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Original Universe, Politics, Post-Apocalypse, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barotai/pseuds/barotai
Summary: Taking place on a recovering world of mortals two centuries after the Cataclysm, a simultaneous invasion of multiple extraplanar forces that saw most of the gods and populace wiped out and the establishment of a global religious order, Realm of the Last Five focuses on a group of adventurers that become entangled in a quest to save their world from further ruin at the hands of vain mortals, extraplanar threats and their worshipers.
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue: History of Our World

**Author's Note:**

> This originally begun as a 5e campaign setting that I'm still working on, which my friends convinced to make an original story about it to explore its worldbuilding, prepare myself as a DM and write for the myriad of original characters that I have created.
> 
> This is also my first ever seriously written work (and first time using ao3), so I apologize in advance for writing errors, wordiness, slow build-up, odd tagging, sudden edits or early installment weirdness. I'll be updating this irregularly because I'm a little busy with my studies, but I'll try to post a new chapter at least bimonthly. No promises, though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summarized backstory of the Realm of the Last Five.

Over two hundred years ago, the mortalkind flourished. Our multitude of races had spread onto and thrived upon every land on earth. Scientific advance and global unity were at their historical peak. Starvation and rampant disease were steadily becoming a passing memory. Our greatest buildings were monuments of architectural ingenuity that pierced the heavens. The wilderness and its beasts and monsters were no match for our automated tools and deadly weapons. Even the dreaded titans of old fell before our grand machines of war.

Alas, such power came with a cost.

Before our Golden Age, there where we walked, the gods followed us. They protected us in our sleep, granted us boons to defend ourselves with and blessed our harvests with plentiful yields. They helped our workers raise the walls around our cities, gifted our arcanists the knowledge of magic and protected our pioneers as they mapped the world. And in return we worshiped and honored them for their aid, from mundane prayers and modest offerings to holy shrines and grand celebrations.

But as we developed, learned and created, we grew proud and haughty. Slowly, we begun to believe that we no longer needed the gods that had guided us since time immemorial. Shrines were no longer revered. Holy books were abandoned. Worship became study. Even once wondrous magic was reduced to a mere source of power. In a few short generations, without us to pray for them, the gods fell to slumber, and soon in our misplaced confidence, the mortalkind had come to believe that we could become our own gods.

The extraplanar soon proved us wrong.

The fiends emerged from hell to scorch and slaughter, reducing our once plentiful fields and verdant forests to ash and soot. The aberrations descended from the void, devouring or dissecting our kin and turning the survivors into mindless thralls for their unfathomable plans. The fey manifested deep in the wild and hunted or toyed with the desperate man, regardless of need or reason. The undead rose from their ancient graves and fresh battlefields, led by vampires and liches who had forsaken salvation for cold, eternal life granted to them by dark magic. The elementals surfaced from the ground, sea, thunder and flame, destroying our cities and leaving behind husks of screeching metal and wastelands of crystal. And the celestials came from the heavens, clad in golden armor and wielding holy swords, for a moment granting us hope… only to dash it against the stones, smiting us down as we reached out to them, becoming victims of their crusade to purify and cleanse the world of vice and sin.

Even other mortals, ours or not, stood against us. Warbands of angered alien elves armed with the magic of old and beasts of fey. Armies of bestial men enslaved by the elemental lords and forced to wage their merciless wars. Legions of mechanical constructs expanding in every direction with moving bastions the size of cities. Mortal tyrants declaring ownership over their neighbors in selfish bid for world domination.

As the machines, cannons and blades of man failed, broke or dulled against the tides of the Cataclysm, in our desperation we sought out the gods that our ancestors had abandoned generations ago. We begged for redemption and forgiveness. We offered our bodies and lives to them in servitude. We prayed for them to wake up and save us in our darkest hour.

And the gods did.

Fiends and undead were disintegrated by the holy light that once more shone from our hands. Aberrations and the fey were forced into hiding as the gods taught us the ways of old and turned us from prey into hunters. The elementals and celestials were banished to their realms with the mighty magic that had been lost to us long ago. The fairfolk, beastfolk, warforged and treasonous tyrants were subjugated with the united might of mortals and gods. Just as quickly as the extraplanar had invaded our homes, the gods had helped us reclaim it once more.

But despite its swiftness, the war was costly.

Most of the mortalkind fell to the atrocities of the invaders, and with them did most of the gods, leaving only five of them left to walk the earth. Quickly realizing the vulnerability of their home, their people and themselves, the surviving gods agreed that they had to work together in order to avoid total extinction and destruction of the Mortal Realm. Setting aside their differences and casting off their old titles, the Pantheon of the Last Five was born:

Ordloria of the Humans, the mighty Goddess of Justice.

Ljossendra of the Dwarves, the ever-changing God of Light.

Miwiteko of the Gnomes, the uncompromising God of Judgement.

Wenhelei of the Dragonkin, the benevolent Goddess of Mercy.

and Alarimal of the Elves, the austere God of War.

The Last Five, in order to ensure that they would not be forgotten ever again, brought together the heroes that had served them during the Cataclysm, and created the Order of the Five; an international organization of the faithful, the good and the just, dedicated to the mission of bringing justice, lighting the darkness, upholding order and protecting the man, the gods and the Mortal Realm from extraplanar invaders, further ruin, and a Second Cataclysm.


	2. The Alleyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two friends first meet in the Ruined District of Lytth.

Lytth. The City of Light, and capital of the Republic of Lyttheria. A lighthouse-crested beacon of civilization on the shores between the endless fields of grass and the warm seas, and a haven for mortals from the wilderness and its beasts. In ages past the city was well-known for its commerce as the main trade center of the Domumian Sea, but in modern day it’s more known for the electricity that the city’s blue-tiled roofs and underground water turbines generate from collecting light and water, distributing it across the entire nation and beyond.

Even after vast majority of mortalkind worldwide had moved to the cities, the large metropolises were still far too large for the surviving population – leading to most of the urban area becoming abandoned ruins and cement graveyards where crime, vagrancy and monsters thrived. While the workers have toiled day and night since the Cataclysm, diligently demolishing the cement behemoths around them for steel and salvage, expanding the city proper and allowing nature to claim the land, half of Lytth still remains a notoriously criminal and intimidating Ruined District.

And within the ruins, just a few blocks away from the walls, a lone woman in a dark grey cloak covered in droplets of rain stepped off the silent, decrepit evening street into an alleyway, disappearing into the darkness. Now out of sight, she took out her purse and poured the coins from her last sale inside. She couldn’t help but smile as they softly clinked together, drowning out the scant few noises of the street behind her.

Today had gone well: a hefty three-digit sum in earnings. Unsurprising given what people pay for to feel safe nowadays, especially outside the city proper. _All more the reason to stay in this business,_ she thought. When Lytth and its guards cannot be trusted to keep the people safe, they turn to those such as her that can be – for a price.

She picked up the pace and rounded the corner, pulling her hood back and revealing an orange head of hair. “Got a good haul today,” she raised her head. “Three–”

Stopping in her tracks, she looked around to see that the humid dead-end had turned out empty. Knowing she had gone down the right alley, she pulled out her pocket-watch. A few minutes past seven, just like when she checked last time. Groaning, she then pocketed it in quiet annoyance. “Of course they’re fucking late again…”

With a sigh, she drew a metal case from underneath her cloak as she stepped over to the far wall, flipping its lid open and revealing the butt of a cigarette. Drawing it out with her teeth, she then took a palm-sized lighter from her other pocket, flicked its wheel a few times until it lit up, lighting her smoke. Frowning slightly seeing the case empty, she closed the lid and pocketed both, leaning against the wall. Looks like she had to get more smokes, again…

Less than a minute later, she heard someone’s saunter echo down the alleyway, their footsteps occasionally splashing against the puddles of water that had formed from the rainfall an hour or so back. Couldn’t hear anyone else though, so they were most likely alone. Not her guys.

She lazily turned her head as the footsteps came closer and their owner walked around the corner, making eye contact with a thin man with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing simple black trousers and a hooded grey jacket that shrouded his face in shadow. Judging by the small frame, he was either human or a short elf, and a young adult. Maybe late adolescent.

“…hey,” he greeted awkwardly, pulling a hand from his pocket to briefly wave at her before putting it back.

“…you lost, kid?” She asked after a beat of silence. “What do you want?”

“…I heard you sell guns.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“That you sell firearms,” the man bluntly repeated with an awkward tone, carefully coming closer a couple steps. “Right?”

“Those are prohibited by the Order,” she frowned. “Who told you that, boy…?”

“…a local told me that a woman around here was,” the man shrugged awkwardly – and drew a purse full of coins from his pocket. “Is it you or not?”

Her eyes glanced at his hand as he drew out the purse, and after a moment of deliberation she smiled, got off the wall and approached him, opening her cloak. Underneath, she wore a vest lined up with simply made flintlock pistols. “Bullets and gunpowder sold separately.”

As the hooded man leaned in, browsing in silence, the dealer took a closer look at him – his face was completely shrouded, almost like it wasn’t there at all. But perhaps that was just the alley being dark…

“…hrmh. Shoddily made, prone to jamming or breaking,” the man mumbled, the awkwardness in his voice changing slightly as he leaned back up.

“Manufacturing is a bit… troubled, unfortunately,” she smiled slightly, ignorant of the change in tone. “But to make up for it, my co-workers and I do offer repair and exchange services for a small fee–”

“I figured,” his clothes morphed in shape and color, his grey jacket and black trousers turning into hide armor over blue hoodie and pants. The darkness under his hood vanished too, revealing a wooden, featureless mask with large, clearly magical green eyes with small pupils that concealed the real ones. And in his hand, his bag of gold vanished, revealing a light brown firearm. “You’re under arrest.”

“…ah,” the dealer muttered after a second of silence, calmly closing her cloak. “I see.”

“Hands behind your head, out of this alley,” he motioned with his firearm. “Please.”

 _Please, he says,_ she thought, almost chuckling. _This kid had clearly never done this before._

“Alright, let’s not get hasty,” the dealer said, putting her hands behind her head as ordered. “My bounty was not that high, right? Couple hundred gold pieces, maybe less than that. What’re you looking for from that?”

“I don’t care for your bribes,” he responded bluntly, keeping his gun trained at her as she took a few steps around him. The dealer stopped briefly as her eyes were drawn to the gun, which she now saw was made of wood and glowing the same shade of green as his mask’s eyes.

“…ah, an arcane firearm,” she noted. “You’re an artificer.”

“Out of the alleyway, please,” the man motioned somewhat politely with his weapon again.

“I went to the college when I was younger, too, you know,” the dealer continued, confident that he was too timid to force her to get moving. “Costs quite a lot. Are you paying for your tuition fees? Or tools of the trade?”

The artificer lowered his head slightly, silently imploring her to keep moving.

“…you are, aren’t you?”

“ _Move it_.”

“Have you considered if this is all worth the trouble of angering the black market?” Her voice took a darker tone, but she took a few steps around him. “Arms-trade is finicky business and interference isn’t easily forgiven.”

“That’s not how that works,” the masked man shook his head in doubt. “If every act against organized crime was punished or retaliated against, the law would prioritize taking it down even more–”

“Not when the law has barely any power outside the city walls,” the dealer interrupted. “The guard doesn’t care for the Ruined District, while we do. And if the law can’t even protect those under its jurisdiction, then what stops the higher-ups from sending someone to walk in and make an example out of you…?”

He stared at her quietly, the gun still levelled at her – but clearly wavering ever so slightly.

 _Gotcha,_ the dealer smirked.

“I’m offering you an easy way out, kid,” she calmly took the hands off her head, even as he kept the gun levelled at her. “I’ll pay for your tools from my pocket, perhaps throw in some extra, and in exchange you’ll walk away, and we’ll never see each other again. You’re not the first one I’ve done so for.”

The artificer weighed his options. She made good points, pragmatically speaking – her bounty was too low to pay for his tools and tuition both, and on top of it the risk of having someone hunt him down or worse didn’t seem to be worth it. Accepting the bribe meant breaking the law, sure, but given that the two of them were the only people around, he could just walk away without anyone finding out…

“H-Hughes, _wait–!_ ”

He brought his head up, then quickly turned to where the voice had come from and was suddenly struck in the side with a knife by an unknown, larger assailant. Crying out in shock and pain, he panicked and littered the brick wall with blasts of force from his arcane firearm before getting knocked out with a blow to the head, his weapon and body both falling to the ground. The dealer’s cigarette followed shortly after.

Too slow to stop her co-worker, she stared down at the fallen, shanked artificer in stunned silence, mouth agape.

“…you’re a fucking idiot,” a slimmer thug walking to the scene murmured in astonishment. “The kid was gonna accept the fucking bribe.”

“Bullshit,” Hughes, an overweight human with a large burn scar over the left side of his head, retorted curtly. “It’s a _mage_ , Markus. He would’ve just magicked Tesha into coming along after paying him.”

“ _Then why the fuck didn’t he do that right away?_ ” Markus countered, motioning at the unconscious, bleeding artificer. “The guy didn’t even have the nerve to touch her–”

“I had this under control, you _dumbass!_ ” The arms-dealer finally snapped at Hughes. “ _What the fuck is **wrong** with you!?_”

“It’s a _mage!_ ” He repeated. “You don’t mess around with fucking _mages!_ ”

“You could’ve at least knocked him out right away,” Markus shook his head, staring at the blood slowly pooling up and slipping between the cracks in the cobblestone.

“I don’t trust these weasel bastards,” Hughes wiped the blood off his knife, the eye on the scarred side of his head twitching. “Last time I did that–”

“That’s not how that works!” Tesha cut him off. “Casters don’t all act the same or have the same powers! Artificers _can’t even access_ charm spells!”

“That ain’t it! Mages in general are unpredictable!” He defended himself. “I jumped that elf and shanked him, like, _four times,_ and he just kept going like it was nothing! Magic makes folks _crazy!_ ”

“I feel like it was just that guy specifically,” Markus mused aloud.

“How do _you_ know that?” Hughes retorted, turning to him. “I’m telling you, man, _normally,_ elves are all girly and wimpy–”

The dealer covered her face and finally released the long, muffled groan of frustration that had been building up in her.

-

“Loud fuckin’ dumbasses,” another thug, a dwarven one, murmured around the corner, picking his ear as he listened to the group’s argument. “If this wasn’ the Ruined District, we’d have guards on our asses by now.”

“Why does she care if some rookie adventurer dies, anyway?” His human friend asked. “She’d sell guns to kids if they had the money.”

“Tesha’s jus’ worried about her bounty risin’,” the dwarf shrugged. “If it does, then so does the amount o’ people lookin’ to arrest her, or so she says. And she doesn’ wanna take the risk with some scavver findin’ the corpse and reportin’ it a few months later.”

“How’re they gonna link a months old corpse to her?”

“They use magick, Louis,” the dwarf smiled at his compatriot like he was an idiot.

“…right, but… how, though, Erik?” Louis proved him correct.

The dwarf sighed. “You know, they… erm, fin’ a white magick guy, cleric, or whatever, right? And tell ‘em to use that all-seein’-secret-knowledge stuff to fin’ out what happened to the dead guy,” he explained in the simplest terms he could, making inarticulate hand motions. “Or they jus’ cast a dead speakin’ spell on the corpse if it still has a head an’ a mouth.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort and time spent over some dead dude in an alley,” Louis frowned.

“…well… yeah? It’s a murder victim,” the dwarf looked at him, confused. “Of course they’ll make an effort to fin’ out why they’re dead. Wouldn’ you, in tha’ position?”

“…okay, yeah, fair,” the human nodded, not noticing the heavy footsteps coming closer towards them. “I wasn’t thinking about it as I said it, or… whatever...”

Erik saw someone large and metallic approaching from the corner of his eye and turned his head to them, followed by Louis. “And what the hell are you doin’ here, lad?” The dwarf asked abrasively, his friend slowly setting a hand on a knife in his pocket. “You got any idea where ye at, eh?”

The warforged brought his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, a grin creeping up on his wooden, humanoid lips.

_Seems like today wasn’t going to be boring after all._

-

“Why the fuck are you guys late, anyway?” Tesha glared up at the two, crouched down to pick up her cigarette.

“Protection racket day,” Hughes said, pulling out a purse of coins. “Some guys were on the way. Couldn’t hurt to be a bit late again, we figured...”

“So what’re we gonna do with the kid?” Markus asked, crouched down over the artificer, fiddling with his arcane firearm. “Dispose the body outside the city, or something?”

“Dude, _drop that thing,_ ” Hughes warned, concerned.

“I guess,” Tesha sighed as she stood back up, putting the cigarette back to her lips. “ _Fucking hell…_ ”

The three were interrupted by the sounds of a brawl by the entrance of the alleyway. Before anyone could say or do anything, they all saw Louis get flung across the alley and into the back wall, falling to the ground unconscious. Soon after a large, imposing construct rounded the corner, holding up dazed Erik by the beard as he glanced over the dead-end’s occupants. He was seven feet tall, towering over everyone else in the alley, wearing a black kilt with a wide strip of light grey cloth on front, cuffed boots and leather gloves. His body was mostly metallic and wooden, the metal covering most of his being body black and purple while the wooden areas like his lower face, neck and parts of his joints were dark grey, save for the purple midsection. Finally, his head was covered by a square black helmet with a wide-open visor revealing green eyes of an otherwise shadowed face, a round marking on the forehead and a wide and short purple mohawk-like metal crest on top.

“ _Do-ho-ho,_ looks like someone’s being **fucking illegal** over here!” The warforged cackled haughtily as he marched towards the thugs, discarding the dwarf like a napkin. “ _Who’s up next?_ ”

“Oh, _what the fuck_ ,” Markus muttered as he and Hughes drew their knives and rushed him.

Markus swung wildly at the warforged, missing once, twice, and thrice as the construct dodged his swings with a few steps back. The fourth strike hit his chest only to shatter the knife’s blade, which the bot took as a chance to slam his palms over Markus’ ears, disorienting him. As his compatriot’s world spun, Hughes tried to take advantage of the construct’s distracted attention and shank him in the side like he did with the artificer, only for the machine-person to grab the incoming arm with his right hand and sharply twist it, making the human drop the weapon. Hughes reflexively slammed a fist into his face, audibly fracturing one of his own fingers and causing him to cry out in pain, to which the warforged responded with a jab from his free hand, followed by him releasing his grip and delivering a swift right-hand hook that sent the overweight thug to the floor.

“Charging at a guy made of metal with kitchen knives,” he looked amusedly down at Hughes as he stepped over him towards the arms-dealer. “And the city needs to hire _freelancers_ to deal with y–”

A loud bang cut him off as a bullet ricocheted off his chest and briefly stumbled him, the sound of the gunshot ringing out across the Ruined District. Unsurprisingly, he stood standing and uninjured save for a brief shock from the suddenness of the gunshot.

“…are you fucking kidding me?” Tesha muttered, wide-eyed, as she lowered the weapon.

“…that actually hurt a bit,” the warforged looked down and brushed the spot she hit him in with his fingers. “Ow.”

He looked back up to see the arms-dealer hastily reloading the flintlock weapon, pouring black powder down the barrel and then cramming a small bead inside. The warforged raised a bemused eyebrow, strode over to her in a few steps, grabbed the gun’s barrel just as she was done pouring the rest of the powder into the chamber in the back, and casually flung it over his shoulder. It hit the wall and clattered to the ground like a toy.

“Who the fuck are _you?_ ” The arms-dealer stared up at him, stepping backward. “Did the council hire a merc?”

“…like, how do you mean?” The warforged asked. “I’m a freelancer.”

“…holy shit,” Tesha muttered in disbelief, looking around. Erik and Louis beaten and knocked out, Hughes sprawled on the floor and Markus vomiting his lunch in the corner – all by a guy who was clearly not even trying.

The warforged tilted his head, scrutinizing the arms-dealer a little. After a second or two he heard a groan behind him, and glanced back to see the stab victim stirring, having just regained his consciousness.

The arms-dealer noticed the warforged’s diverted attention and glanced away at the exit, slowly inching towards it. If she made it out of the alley, she could hopefully lose him in the ruins across the street. _He’s strong, but with weight like that he can’t be fast, too, right?_

The artificer kept stirring for a moment or two, until he tried to stand up and immediately begun quietly moaning out of pain as he registered the stab wound, clutching his side.

“…hey, you alright?” The warforged turned further towards him.

Tesha took this as her chance to bolt for it, only for the warforged to quickly lurch over and grab her by the bicep before she had even taken her third step, the cigarette falling out of her mouth again. Far faster than what she expected of someone that size.

“Almost, but no,” the warforged shook his head.

“It was Hughes,” she pointed to her co-worker on the ground, instinctively struggling against his grip. “I was just trying t–”

“Yeah, yeah, changes nothing,” he muttered dismissively as he stepped between her and the exit, still holding onto her. “Still a mugging gone wrong.”

“ _I wasn’t mugging anyb–!_ ” Tesha begun defending herself but stopped mid-sentence as she realized its pointlessness. She ran a palm across her head with her free hand, pushing her hair back, and took a deep breath. “What are you after?”

“…I just said that I was a freelancer.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Tesha smiled with a slight chuckle. “You obviously don’t have any loyalties for the law, do you?”

“Not really,” the warforged shrugged his shoulders, already knowing where this was going but letting the lady to continue out of curiosity.

“In that case, let me offer you a better option,” she clasped her hands together. “If you let us go, my employers will pay you – and him, if needed,” she glanced at the artificer still clutching his side in pain, “several times more than the sum that the guards will. Cash sent to the location of your choosing, both sides will be silent and that’ll be it. What do you say?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea,” the construct scoffed, smiling insincerely. “You lot leave quietly and covered in bruises, while I’m left with a bag of gold and a bloodied guy in a dirty alleyway. Who do you take me for?”

Another shot rang out, and in the blink of an eye the warforged felt a sharp pain in his neck as something sunk into his spine. Crying out, his legs gave out and his eyes snapped shut, body seizing up from the sudden pain and temporary loss of feeling in his limbs, which Tesha took as an opportunity to wrestle herself free from his grip. Behind him, Markus, still slightly disoriented, levelled the flintlock that the bot had tossed aside moments prior, the barrel still smoking.

“…figured his wood-bits were weaker than the metal,” the thug glanced at the gun, before tossing it to Tesha with an underhand throw, the warforged groaning in pain.

“Get Hughes up and let’s get out of here,” the arms-dealer hastily ordered as she caught the weapon, before turning to check on Erik and Louis, while Markus quickly went to help up his co-worker. The human and dwarf were both still out cold and didn’t respond to her when she tried to wake them up, but they were still breathing. _At least they’re alive,_ she mused in her head, _but they’ve probably got a few broken bones…_

“ _Wake the fuck up, you fat fucking–_ ” Markus muttered, jostling Hughes by the collar of his shirt. Stirring and opening his eyes, the larger man gripped the ground beneath him, rubbing his face.

“ _Ffffucking_ warforged,” he grumbled as he dragged himself up, rubbing his jaw. “These bastards shouldn’t be allowed in the cities…”

A faint, yellow glow shone near the two thugs, who glanced over to its source – the artificer, pressing a glowing palm against his wound as his mask shone slightly. As the glowing stopped, he took it off, the wound sealed and the bleeding stopped, but still struggling to get up due to the blood loss-induced delirium.

“A healing spell, eh?” Hughes narrowed his eyes, bending down to pick up his knife. “ _We’ll see about that…_ ”

“Quit it already _,_ ” Markus stopped him, pointing at the warforged still on his knees. “The bot’s gonna get up any minute. _We gotta fuck off._ ”

“Erik and Louis aren’t waking up,” Tesha glanced back, having turned both of them to their sides so they could breathe. “We need to carry these two out.”

As the two thugs turned, the warforged slammed his fist into the ground, cracking the cobblestone as he begun dragging himself to his feet, a faint and intensifying red aura surrounding him.

“…yeah, that looks about right,” Hughes murmured, stepping backward. “The dude’s a barbarian, too.”

“ _And now we run,_ ” Markus said, already turning to bolt out of the alleyway. Tesha and Hughes quickly followed, leaving Erik and Louis behind.

Suddenly, however, the ground flashed white and the group found themselves slipping on cold ground. Markus and Hughes fell onto their backs with shocked yells, while Tesha barely stayed on her feet, stumbling and slipping until she got off the ice, not even looking back as she pulled the cloak over her head and ran out of the alley.

“Wh– _HEY!_ ” Hughes shouted after her, trying to get up. “ _WAIT FOR US!_ ”

Markus dragged himself to solid ground and quickly got up to help Hughes over. Glancing back to see where the ice had suddenly come from, he saw that the artificer, still on the ground, had turned the puddles of rainwater and his own blood into a thick sheet of ice.

And the warforged, now on his feet and eyes glowing red, slammed his foot into the ground with enough strength to rip up the cobblestone pavement, cracking the ice as he strode towards them. Without a word both thugs turned to run, Hughes narrowly avoiding the warforged’s fist and the debris that followed when it cleaved through the corner of the wall.

As the warforged turned to give chase, however, the bullet in his neck rubbed against his spine and made him stumble down to the floor again, from which he quickly recovered only to stumble again. His rage kept wavering, spiking up as the pain returned and slowly falling back down as it vanished. He managed to take a few steps in-between the moments of painlessness, but kept succumbing back to it, worse and worse each time. By the fourth or fifth spike – he had lost count – he was forced to his hands and knees, his rage blinking out as it got overwhelmed by the pain in his neck.

Something pressed itself against the sides of his wound, and arduously attempted to drag himself up and reach behind himself to throw it off, but the pain kept him pinned to the ground.

“H-hey, it’s okay,” he barely registered someone speak up as the pain suddenly flared up for a split-second before dissipating, the rest of his body quickly following behind. His extremities and limbs were still prickling, but the pain was nonetheless gone.

“D-don’t– don’t move your head too much,” the awkward voice spoke up again from his left, who the warforged turned to look at – and immediately grimaced in pain as the wound briefly flared up and toppled him to his side. “I told you.”

“…weren’t you bleeding to death, like, two minutes ago?” The construct opened one of his optics, glaring up at the blue-clothed, masked artificer in irritation. His clothes were still bloodstained, but aside from that he didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“…I got better,” the artificer shrugged, holding a small, flattened bullet between his fingers, offering his free hand to lift him up. “I’m Alpus. Ra Sorall.”

Rolling his eyes, the construct took his hand and lifted himself up, nearly dragging the considerably smaller and weaker artificer to the floor and making him drop the bullet. “Bedrock. And thanks.”

“Y-yeah, no problem,” Alpus shook his arm a bit after letting go, before flicking his fingers across the dried bloodstains of his clothes, magically causing them to flake off and disintegrate. With another flick, the punctured cloth slowly sewed itself close. “The prickling should stop by tomorrow morning. Good thing the bullet didn’t go any deeper...”

“…eh, I’ve survived worse,” Bedrock stretched his fingers, a sound of bootsteps approaching them from the street. “More bothered by the damned dealer fucking off…”

“Oh, for the love of–” The bootsteps stopped at the entrance as two human guards with chainmail armor over dark blue undershirts, matching cop hats and metal batons in their hands skidded to a halt before the adventurers. “ _Again_ with this shit?”

“ _Eeyyy, we meet again!_ ” The construct immediately lighted up, throwing his arms open wide and earning a quizzical stare from Alpus. “What’s up, guys? Five days, that’s a new record–!”

“Oh, _shut up,_ already,” the man, John, cut him off. “This is the _third fucking time_ you’re the reason something’s happened out here!”

“Easy, John,” the guardswoman reassured him. “You know the captain won’t let him off again.”

“ _God,_ I _hope_ ,” John growled, glaring at the two adventurers as he stepped up. “So what the hell is going on here?”

“Oh, uh, w–”

“We were hunting the same bounty by coincidence and caught two of her thugs,” Bedrock shrugged, hands on his hips. “One of them stabbed the… whatever he is, in the gut,” he motioned to Alpus.

“…artificer,” Alpus awkwardly mumbled.

“Do you have any actual proof this time, or do we have to go get a clairvoyant again?” John rolled his eyes at the warforged.

“Aside from the pool of blood in the back and the stab victim standing literally right next to you, no, I don’t,” the warforged rolled his eyes back at him. “I don’t lie just because I can, _dumbass._ ”

John’s face contorted into a grimace, his eye twitching. “Enough of your _fucking–_ ”

“I figured it was you, by the brief description,” a stocky, aged dwarven guardsman with grey hair and beard stepped over from around the corner. “There has to come a stop to this, Bedrock.”

“Oy, Lukas,” the warforged lazily and dismissively stepped around John, much to the human’s chagrin. “How’s it going?”

“Heard gunshots from this area and caught two of the thugs as they ran out of this alley,” the dwarf pointed out to the street where Markus and Hughes sat cuffed on the sidewalk by an elven guardswoman, near whom was parked a blue auto-carriage. “Only a vague understanding of what happened here, though. And on that note,” he glanced at the two guards. “John, Sara…”

“I’m going,” John rolled his eyes, glaring at Bedrock as he walked away. “You’re _really_ lucky that no one’s dead yet.”

“Hey, maybe next time,” the warforged smiled audaciously. The guard groaned as he picked up the pace, Sara following quickly behind. Alpus looked at the exchange quietly and uneasily, finding the hostile air between the two uncomfortable.

“And who’s this?” Lukas stepped up to look at the artificer with a raised eyebrow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I thought you worked alone.”

“O-oh, uhm, I’m Alpus,” the artificer introduced himself, bowing slightly. “We met by coincidence while hunting the same arms-dealer.”

“Speaking of bitch, where is she?” Bedrock asked, glancing around. “Got away?”

“We sent another patrol to scout for her while we’re waiting for an extra carriage to bring the convicts to the station with.”

“Got away,” the warforged repeated, mildly disappointed.

“I’m, uh… guessing we won’t be paid because these guys aren’t the bounty we were looking for?” Alpus glanced at Bedrock.

“You will be,” Lukas assured. “Less than for the arms-dealer herself, but they’re still her associates. We’ll need you to follow us to the station to give us a rundown of the events here, regardless.” He side-eyed the warforged. “And hire a healer, while at it…”

“…oh, I have healing magic and some mana left,” Alpus realized, briefly glancing down at his hands. “I can help with that.”

“Ah, much appreciated,” the dwarf smiled and nodded to the artificer. “Saves us the trouble and coin.”

Bedrock watched as the over-clothed… human? Elf? Quickly turned and left back to the alleyway, confused. _He got stabbed in a dirty alleyway and his first instinct is to help heal the people that tried to kill him?_ He thought. _Why would he do that?_

“Fortunate of you to have ran into someone who knew healing arts out here,” Lukas stepped next to him. “If we had brought them to the station in the state they’re right now, the captain would be even more furious...”

Bedrock scoffed. “Like she or any of you wouldn’t want to do what I’m doing, too.”

“No, we really don’t,” the old guardsman shook his head. “You come up frequently in some discussions, but none of them talk about you in admiration.”

“Oh? I’m that endearing, am I?” Bedrock crouched down to the dwarf’s level with a sneer, briefly grimacing at the wound in his neck. “Come on, Luke. What’s a couple broken bones to get the job done?”

“There’s a _reason_ why there are laws to safeguard the rights of convicts,” Lukas reminded him. “You’re not allowed to ignore them just because you’re a freelancer. Regardless…” he crossed his arms behind his back. “Lexia’s going to want to have a talk with you over the ‘apprehensions’ that you’ve made in the past month.”

“Past two weeks, actually,” Bedrock corrected him, raising two fingers. “The first time wasn’t a freelancer thing.”

Lukas sighed in tired exasperation.


End file.
